Will You Be My Friend?
by funky-punky-munky
Summary: Frankie's college friend comes to work at Foster's, but Wilt is having trouble standing on his own. His confusion is tormenting him as moments from his past arise back to haunt him... almost fini! :)
1. Welcome To Foster's

FPM: ...so yeah, thanks for wanting to read this.

Bloo: Now I'm infamous!

FPM: o.O...that means you're famous for a bad reason...

Bloo: Oh. (-shrug-) ON WITH THE SHOW!!

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"...Mahahaha! And I beat you at Go-Fish!!" Bloo exclaimed, throwing down his cards on the wooden table, beaming. Eduardo sighed as he put down his hand; Bloo gathered the hairy imaginary friend's cards and looked them over. "...Wait, you mean you still have a hand so technically I didn't win?"

"...Eh, si, Azul."

Bloo screamed. "AIH! How could you do that?! ...Rip off artist!!!!" With that said, Bloo flung his cards into the air and began kicking poor Eduardo with his foot. Eduardo screamed as he ran around the table in an attempt to get away from Bloo.

Wilt walked in and watched the petrified Eduardo screaming and dodging Bloo around the room. "...What's wrong, guys? Can I help you find something?" Wilt bent down and lifted the couch a bit and observed a spider innocently crawling below it. Wilt yelped and fell backwards on top of Eduardo. Frankie came running into the room, laughing and smiling.

"Guess what, guys?!?! My Friend –who I haven't seen in like forever-- is COMING!! ...Wait...what are you guys doing?" She helped Wilt off of Eduardo and Bloo came over, whistling.

"....I didn't do nothin', Frankie. Just , uh, ...sweeping , see?" He began 'sweeping' the floor with his foot and walked off as Mac stepped in the room through two doors.

"...You're friend's coming? Why?"

"Huh?- Oh! She wanted to say hi, ya know...it's been a while. ..."

Wilt nodded. "...Basically just to keep in touch, right?"

"Yeah! Exactly! ...Man-oh-man I gotta clean this place up-- Bloo! Get over here with a broom you sweeping-freak!"

Bloo came in, a monocle in his right eye, holding his head high. "...I am not Bloo. I am Blooregard Q. Kazoo—the first, the only, the magnificest, the last!"

"Thank heavens for last..." Frankie muttered. She laughed uneasily when Mac frowned at her.

---------

Cherie walked knocked on the door, sighing. Frankie had told her to come at four. She'd been waiting there for what seemed eternity when a small boy opened the door with his other friend under a blue blanket. She smiled. "What's your name?"

Mac's eyebrow rose. "Uh...who are you?"

"Oh! She must be Frankie's friend, Mac! Ya know, only everybody who's anybody knows that..." The person under a blue blanket (Bloo) said un-empathetically. Coco walked behind them, thinking, _Then why does he know?_ Smirking, Coco bounced over to the door, screaming, "Co-Co! Coc cocococo! Coco-co-cococo!" (hey! How are you this afternoon?")

Cherie stepped back and wondered to herself why she had come in the first place. _'I mean, Frankie hasn't written or anything...Maybe she's helping the mentally-challenged and was too embarrassed to ask for help until now...huh. Alrighty-then...'_ She cleared her throat and managed a smile. "...I'm Cherie, and I'm waiting for Frankie...Is she here?"

Mac nodded. "Yeah, she's here. Hey, I'm Mac,"-he stuck out his hand-"Nice to meet you."

Frankie shook it and nodded. "Nice to meet you too."

Bloo coughed. "Whada-'bout me? Isn't this world interested in me?" Bloo crossed his arms and pouted and Cherie laughed.

"Oh, yeah, nice to meet you too...."

She stepped inside to stand by a tall, red person who was missing an arm and had a rather 'wonky' eye. "...?"

"Hi! ...I'm Wilt."

"...I'm Cherie..."

"What a pretty name..."

"Thanks..." She walked off, wondering why Frankie was working with retards...Frankie walked up.

"Hey, Cherie!"

"Hey, Frankie!" They hugged and smiled.

"Nice to see you again!"

"You too!...But, Frankie..."

"What?"

"...What is it you do her exactly?" She pointed at the group of imaginary friends standing behind them and had a questioning look. Frankie shrugged.

"...You didn't know? This is Foster's-"

"HOME FOR IMAGINARY FRIENDS!!" Bloo highperly screamed, interrupting Frankie. Wilt sighed.

"...All right guys. I have to help Duchess clean today. See you later." He waved and walked off. Cherie nodded.

"Uh...Okay, home for imaginary friends...What does that mean?"

"This is a place where people can...well, _do_...abandon their imaginary friends...Yeah. My mom didn't want me to have an imaginary friend anymore and so Bloo is here. But I visit him. ...I like it here." Mac nodded and stared into space.

Cherie asked, "...So can anyone adopt?"

Frankie nodded. "Yeah....are you going to?" Frankie nudged Cherie and winked.

"I dunno...It gets kinda lonely in my apartment..." Shrugging, she added, "But I can't really afford anything—or anyone—right now..."

Nodding, Frankie smiled. "Well, how's about you work here?"

Bloo smiled. "YEAH! ANOTHER FRANKIE! ...except it will be a Cherie...which is not a Frankie because Frankie is herself—WAIT! Unless she was cloned and--HEY! I WANT TO BE CLONED TOO, FRANKIE! WHERE'S THAT CLONING MACHINE! TELL ME NOW!!" Bloo clung to her leg.

Frankie sighed. "It's a wonder I haven't gone crazy yet...Anyways, wanna apply? I'm not exactly doing a superb-o-rific job here myself—It's just that my grandma is the one who runs this place so I have the privilege of working here-"

"-And not always to a level of perfection, might I ad." Mr. Harriman hopped in. He sighed. "Has anyone seen my monocle? I can't seem to find it..."

Bloo's eyes enlarged and he took off the single-eyepiece that was in his eye. "...Oh, uh...this thing?" He held it up for Mr. Harriman to see. Nodding, the rabbit took the monocle from Bloo's hand, hopping off. "...That's Mr. Harriman. He's Mrs. Foster's imaginary friend..."

"Mrs. Foster. Hmm...Sounds nice...So what do I have to do to apply?"

"Come with me," Frankie grabbed her arm and pulled her away. Mac and the other imaginary friends shrugged and continued along playing Go-Fish.

Frankie led Cherie to a big room with Mrs. Foster sitting at a desk in a rather large, mahogany chair. She little old lady smiled. "I am Madame Foster. And you are?"

"Cherie. Cherie Kiefer."

"Ah, what a pretty name...yes, Cherie. All right, you're in."

"WHAT?!" Mr. Harriman hopped in through two doors around the corner. "You can't just possibly hire someone you don't know just because they are friends with you granddaughter..."

Madame Foster smiled sweetly. "Yes, of course. But Frankie would never hang out with any hooligans of any sort..."

Frankie smiled as she remembered her old boy-friend, Hank, who dressed in black leather and chains... Madame Foster continued.

"...And furthermore, she seems like such a sweet girl. ...How old are you Cherie?"

"I'll be nine-teen this June..."

Mr. Harriman sighed. "See? She's not even as old as dear Frankie and will probably follow in her footsteps of-"

"BUT YA JUST GOTTA HIRE CHERIE!!" Bloo ran in the room, hugging Cherie's black-panted leg. "...See her soft, grey eyes with flecks of blue in them? PURE BEAUTY! And her green shirt says ...well, it says nothing...but she has a black jacket to cover up her arms because she's MODEST! MODESTY IS GOOD! And black pants...Ah, well, she doesn't look Gothic...AND NOTHING LIKE TERRENCE!! SEE?!?! THEN HIRE CHE-"

"I think you've made your point, Bloo..." Frankie interrupted, prying the blue midget off her friend's leg. Madame Foster nodded.

"Very observant of you, Bloo. Very well, then. Cherie Kiefer—welcome to Foster's."

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FPM: ...yes, uhm, okay...there's that first chapter. Sorry if anyone was out of character, but I-

Mr. Harriman: there are no excuses in life, FPM. Make no mistake about that.

FPM: uh-huh...anyways, I do not own 'Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends' or its characters, but I own my story, ideas, and Cherie.

Bloo: Frankie's not giving me the cloning machine.

FPM: I also don't own a cloning machine.

Bloo: (-shrug-) Ah. Well, I guess no mini-me's...

FPM: ...that's probably for the best of humanity...

Bloo: WHAT?!?!?!

FPM: oh, nothing...


	2. Just Relaxing

FPM: ...sorry ppl if any 'chacter bashing' was thought of...i really had no intention of doing so...

Bloo: (-hugs Eduardo-) luv u buddy...

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Cherie, after being labled 'Frankie-2' by Bloo and being accepted into the commitee that kept the Foter's Home Fore Imaginary Friends in order, started helping Frankie clean around the building.  After both of them loading a huge box into one of an imaginary friend's closet, Frankie sat down in a large chair, breathing deeply.

"Thanks, Cherie. I don't think I could have done that without you..."

Cherie nodded and smiled. "Sure. And thanks for getting me hired...truthfully, I was worried that when I was fired from my last job-"

"What were you fired for?" Frankie, now a little edgy, sat up, biting her lower lip. Cherie shook her head.

"No...nothing you're think of. ...Anyways, it was because the assistant boss dude asked me out, and then I said no. He got fumed about it, apparently. Later, my boss retired, making the dude that was mad at me the new boss. And out of the blue one day he fired me-- wouldn't give a reason, but I knew why..."

Frankie sighed, releaved, and rested back against the chair.

"How's life in College?"

Cherie shrugged. "Nothing special, really...just a hassle."

"What do you want to be?"

"...That's what I haven't figured out yet..."

"Hey, then you should ask Wilt for advice--ya know, the tall red dude...He's really cool..."

"Right. Then I will. But can I do that later?- I've had a pretty big day..." Cherie sighed and sat down in a chair opposite of Frankie.  She smiled. "Remember our last sleepover?...When we both fell asleep after playing Truth or Dare? ...Did you really mean that?"

"...I forgot about that. ...What did I say?"

" Oh, nothing..."

Wilt walked over and smiled. "How are you, Cherie? I heard you've been hired to help "

"Thanks...But it was thanks to Frankie-"

"So when you do something wrong, we can all just blame it on Frankie, right? Huh? HUH? I know you're plan..." Bloo interrupted, holidng up a magnifying-glass. "...You're see-through..."

Frankie shook her head. "Bloo? Last time, you were the one that practically begged my gram to hire her and now look what you're doing!"

Bloo's brow rose. "Uh-huh. And what is that, pray-tell? !!- ...you've been beainwashed! HIT THE DECK! BRAINWASHER!! BRAI-"

"Calm down, Bloo." Wilt smiled, patting Bloo on his back.  Bloo sighed.

"Yeah, fine, whatever...but I'll prove you all wrong one day-- you'll see! ah, yes, see you will, hahaha! I SHALL PROVE YOU ALL WRONG! Yes, indeedy..." Bloo cackled and walked off, murmering to himself. Wilt shook his head.

"Where's Mac?"

Frankie shrugged and Cherie sat up. "...Who's Mac?"

"He's about yeay-tall, brown hair...nice fellow, that Mac..." Wilt trailed off, looking elsewhere.  "Anyways, I promised I'd help-"

"How many people do you help? I mean, gosh, that's ...well, only the second, but still, sounds like you help a bunch of people...well, things...here."

Wilt shrugged and smiled. "It's worth it."

"...Anyways, Wilt, like I said, helps people-"

"But why?" Cherie interrupted Frankie, lookign at Wilt. He shrugged.

"It makes me happy."

"Does it really? I mean, do you really get happy from-"

Frankie cleared her throat. "Uh, Cherie, you might wanna stop..."

"Huh? oh...Sorry, Wilt. I didn't know I was attacking a sore subject. ...Anyways, need help with helping?"

Wilt smiled. "Sure, that would be great."

Frankie sighed, flipping on the television.  Mr. Harriman hopped over. "...Miss Francis, what is your excuse for by-passing the time with that electronic devise that is of no apparent use to your job?"

She moaned. "... Uh, just taking my break..."

--------------------

FPM: i felt like making that really short today...

Wilt: don't worry. i KNOW people won't flame you for that-

FPM: there would have to be readers for there to be flames. (-sigh-) anyways, i haven' t gotten one yet and I don't intend to now!!

Bloo: (-sends FPM a flame-) MAHAHAHAHA! I'VE RUINE YOUR LIFE!! DIE, FOOL! Mahahahaha...go me...

FPM: o.O ...

Wilt: who says records are good anyways...


	3. The Mask Is Breaking

FPM: (-sigh-)...

Wilt: what's up?

FPM: (-yawn-) oh...nothing. I'm just excessively tired...

Bloo: Boy Oh Boy Oh Boy Have I NEVER Had That Feeling...

FPM: (-o.O-) wonder why...

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Wilt walked up the stairs with Cherie following behind him to the fourteenth floor.

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FPM: okay, sorry. I haven't been able to watch the show for a while or much so i don't know much about the building...or how many floors it has for one. ...yeah.

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Cherie sighed. "Who is it that needs help?"

"Hm? Oh ...I think Blinky does."

"...Who's Blinky?"

"He's pretty cool.  He's blue, friendly and cute, large black eyes..."

"Thanks. Anyways, what with?"

Wilt smiled and tilted his head towards the door.  He stepped inside and dissapeared.  Cherie shrugged and followed. 

She found herself in a rather messy room with toys and other random items lying about the floor.  _Horribley resembles my apartment..._ Cherie nodded to herself, making a mental note to clean it.  Blinky, a small cat-like animal that looked like a plush-toy, bounced over to her, grinning.

"I gots a shoe! It big'n'lelo!" It lightly bounced from one foot to the other and moved towards what seemed like the bed, jumping onto it and bouncing on it, toys that once plagued its cover scattering onto the floor. The little, blue Blinky screeched for joy, continuing its disasterous actions.  Wilt's head popped out of a pile of toys located in the left back corner of the room. He smiled and stood from it.

"There you are. May I have my shoe back please?"

"Nos! Mees zes nos!" Blinky stuck his tongue out, a miniscule red vine that bounced up and down as Blinky continued bouncing on his bed. Wilt nodded.

"You want my shoe?" Wilt walked over Blinky and watched him bounce from the bed almost to the ceiling. He smiled happily at Blinky's nod. "Then you can for now. Can you give it back when you want to?" Again, the blue creature nodded in delight. "All right. Thank you Blinky. Anything else?"

Blinky stopped and looked Wilt over.  He tapped his chin with his right hand and came to a conclusion. "Blinkys wants yourzez shirt."

"...I don't have a shirt, Blinky."

"Blinkys Wants A SHIRTZ!"

"Just calm down, Blinky. Maybe we can get one tomorrow-"

"How's about this one?" Cherie held up a small white shirt with a smiely-face on it she had found on the floor.  Blinky's eyes glistened as he ran up to the shirt.

"My Shirt! Yess'm, thankyouz..." Blinky happily skipped off to a corner in his room, leaving Wilt's shoe behind. Wilt, still smiling, picked it up and slipped his foot inside of it.  He looked over at Cherie.

"That's basically what I have to do for an hour. Keep him company."

"Oh. Would you like me to stay?"

"...If you would like to, it's fine." Wilt smiled again and picked up a basketball, and started twirling it on his finger. He rolled it allong his shoulders and to his other finger where he started twirling it again. Cherie smiled.

"Basketball fanatic?"

"Huh?" Wilt dropped the ball. Cherie winced.

"I'm sorry..."

"It's fine. I can practice later. Now what was your question?"

"...Well, it was kind of more a statement than a question..."

"Try me." He smiled, ushering her on.

"...I said...I don't want to repeat it. Not that it's a total diss, I'm thinking it wasn't really nice..."

"Oh. Um, all right, then." Nervous, her turned in Blinky's direction, worried about what she had said.

'they doubt you...you're not good...' a shrill voice in his head squealed in delight. 'you're nothing...'

"Am so too!" Wilt said to himself sternly. Realizing he had said this alloud, he quickly excused himself to his room. He walked briskly, not mentioning a sweet "Hello" like he usually did as he passed by other friends. Mac and Bloo noticed this and silently followed him.  Wilt went to his room and closed the door, and sat on his bed, face in his hands. _i'm going crazy, aren't i?..._

'you are. you are. ...but then again, you would have had to be sane in the first place to go crazy...'

_just leave me alone!_

This other voice in his head had developed when Wilt was left abandoned, alone with hisself.  It had created a mind of its own, keeping Wilt inside a mask that showed nothing but kindness or hospitality. It scared Wilt, but he kept his troubles hidden, not wanting to burden others with his problems...

"Wilt?...You alright?"

Mac's voice rung in his head. _i'm already starting to become a burden...i don't want to hurt them..._

'too late for that...'

"Wilt?" Bloo walked half-way through the door, his face worry-stricken. Mac's head popped up behind Bloo's, same expression. Wilt sighed and breathed deeply, a tear falling from his face. He wiped it away and sniffed, standing. He walked over to Mac and Bloo, smiling sweetly as ever.

'but you know what lies beneath...'

Mac bit his lip. "...Your eyes are all puffy. What's up?"

"Huh? Oh, allergies..." Wilt wiped his right hand against his eyes and blinked. Bloo frowned.

"Nuh-uh. All the time I've known you, you've never had these so called 'allergies'..." His eyes narrowed "It's that Frankie 2, isn't it? Aha! I knew she wasn't for the better of our lives..." Bloo began talking to himself as Mac and Wilt silently crept out of the room. Mac smiled.

"Sorry about him. He's been kinda...ya know. Wacko...at least since she's come along. But then he always does that when someone is new..."

Wilt nodded as he started back to Blinky's room. Mac cleared his throat.

"Anything ever needed can be gained through me..."

Wilt stopped and turned slightly, smiling. "Thanks, Mac. I'll remember that..." With that, Wilt walked on, his other side screaming in his head...

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FPM: oooh! Wilt depression...oh, that's sad...i like Wilt.

Wilt: that's all right.

FPM: ...k, i own Blinky, Cherie, my story and its ideas.

Bloo: FPM does **not** own me or any other fostered friends and surely does not own Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends.

FPM: (-glare-) thanks for rubbing that in...


	4. Somehow It Doesn't Seem Right

FPM: oh goodie, goodie, goodie!! Another chapie!!

Bloo: is that a good thing or a bad thing?

FPM: (-.-)…anyways, I was listening to "Three Days Grace" (the BESTEST band ever!!), which inspired me somehow…I have no idea how, but w/e…

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Wilt excused himself from Mac's presence and walked along back to Blinky's room. He came into a neatly-organized (like there's any other type of organized…) room and noticed Blinky had his white shirt with a smiley-face on playing cards with Cherie.

'she's your replacement…it's going to be fun to be alone again, eh? You and me, me and you…'

Wilt felt like ripping the top of his head off just to get rid of this maniacal voice that continued pestering him…

"So, what are you playing?" Wilt said cheerily, even though the voice in his head had disturbed him. He stooped over and picked up the instructions-packet by Cherie and read it.

"…_Uno_. Hmm, sound fun." He smiled and sat next to Blinky, who showed him his card-hand.

"Sees, Wiltses? Sees?"

Wilt nodded at Blinky's sudden question. Cherie smiled and placed another card on the face-up card pile.

"Bloos!! Bloos!!" Blinky squealed excitedly. "Likes Mes!! Justs likes Mes!!"

"Your turn, B." Cherie said, laying her cards face down on the floor and leaning back against the bed. At Wilt's confused expression, Cherie smiled and shrugged.

"I'm B!! B!!...BB!!"

Bloo tumbled into the room and screamed. "BEE?! WHERE?!?!" His large eyes darted across the room and Cherie laughed. She hadn't laughed in a while and it was fun to be with actual friends…even though they were "imaginary".

"No, Bloo, Blinky thinks he's 'B' now…"

"Pshh, I wonder why…" Wilt frowned and looked away. His eyes suddenly bulged and he quickly covered his mouth. "…I…Please excuse me." Wilt stood and walked out of the room, a hand still over his mouth. Bloo gasped.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO WILT?!?! SPEAK, TERRORIST, SPEAK!!!!" Bloo screamed and jumped on top of Cherie, holding her green t-shirt collar and his left hand posed to punch.

"…What are you talking about?"

"YOU KNOW PERFECTLY WELL WHAT-"

"BLOO!!" Frankie gasped and ran over to Cherie, yanking Bloo off of her friend. "What do you think you're doing?"

"ASK THAT TO YOUR DEMENTED FRIEND, FRANKIE!! FRANKIE 2 IS MAKING WILT GO ALL BERSERKISH!! HELP ME, MAC!! SAY I'M RIGHT!!"

Mac casually walked in from the side railing of the door and sighed.

"…Bloo, people aren't always nice, people aren't always mean-"

"BUT WE'RE NOT PEOPLE!!"

"Or sane, for that matter…" Frankie whispered as she lugged the blue friend away from Cherie. Cherie sighed.

"I can leave if this isn't worki-"

"No! Don't do that!" Mac suddenly blurted, then blushed, looking away. Cherie's brow rose and Frankie dropped Bloo.

"…Holy, Cherie, this place has gone wild…well, I mean, it's always wild…but it's so weirdly-wild…ya know?"

Cherie shook her head and sighed, stood, and wiped her rear of some dust she had sat on. She crossed her arms and frowned.

"No, Frankie, I don't know. And I guess I'm just causing all this bad stuff to happen. It's like I'm bad luck or somethin'…"

Wilt sauntered in through the door and shook his head. "No, no, Cherie. It's me. I must have had some bad breakfast or something. It's nothing. Blinky?"

At his name, Blinky looked up and smiled, and then ran and jumped into Wilt's arms.

"Whats's, Wiltses? Whats's?"

"It's been fun."

Blinky's smile grew and he hugged Wilt, giggling. Wilt's eyes glazed over, but he blinked away the forming tears and let Blinky onto the floor. Wilt looked at Cherie.

"Thanks for the help. Maybe I'll see you later." With that said, Wilt went back to his room to discuss some important matters with his mind. Cherie shrugged.

"…So I'll stay?"

"That's great! Okay, 'cause then I actually have someone almost my age and who's real to talk to…Yeah." Frankie smiled and ran off at the sound of breaking dishes. Bloo had obviously been left alone in the kitchen...

---------

FPM: OMG.

Mac: what?

FPM:…I read my second chap and it said "Foter's Home Fore Imaginary Friends"…Bahahahahaha….Foter's….hahahahahahaha…

Mac: **o.O**

Bloo: Yeah! I'm in Foter's!

FPM: holy munkys that's funny…(-wipes tear from face-) …okay, sorry, readers. I am opinionated and think of the most random stuff in my head…Foter's…(-again, laughs maniacally…-)


	5. Unexpected Memories

FPM: …wait. What is a "Mary Sue"? …Is that a diss, anyways? …Should I know as a writer what the heck a "Mary Sue" is for the sake of humanity?

Bloo! IT'S A FLAME! IT'S A FLAME!

FPM: .Waiyyyt a minute. A flame? Two simple words is considered a flame?

Wilt: I think it not.

FPM: …And what are you? And English-man?

Wilt: No, tiz not, Sir—Lass. …Wups.

FPM: o.o

Bloo: May I have this dance?

FPM-Why are there so many question marks on this page already, even though the story has not yet begun! WHAT IS GOING ON!

Mac-Which brings us back to the question, what is, by definition, a "Mary Sue"?

-

Wilt sauntered to his room and stood by the doorframe. Peering around, he found nothing amiss, but nothing of interest either. Sighing, he went to his bunk and sat on the edge of it, running his hands along the wooden side. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked up only to find no one in sight. His worried look gave way to a questioning one as his eyes floated once again around the room. Wilt shared it with Eduardo (which made sense, since Wilt was always helping him out) and Coco, though they rarely were in the room. Two other bunks were on opposite walls, and under one he found someone hiding under. Wilt stood and walked incautiously towards it.

Standing next the Eduardo's bed, he leaned over and stuck his head underneath. What he found was—nothing. Dead-end nothing. Sighing, Wilt stood straight again.

'crazy, you are…and they know it…'

"Shut up! I can't take it anymore!" Wilt, in desperation, began pounding away at his head furiously, as if it were the cure to erasing his past.

'hm-hmm…try as you will, you shall never undo what has been done…'

"No…I won't…" Wilt suddenly fell to the ground, nearly unconscious. He had been hitting his head with too much emphasis, and the end result almost knocked him out (no intended pun). Sprawled out on the ground, Wilt's eyes waved slowly closed, then open, and then closed…and then remained in that position as he fell into a deep sleep.

-(flash-back)-

"Jesse! You can't catch me!"

"Oh, yeah I can, Wilt!" The small boy dashed across the open grass field in an attempt to 'catch' Wilt. As Jesse saw him dart in another direction, he did the same, cut him off, and pounced onto Wilt. Rolling down a small hill, the two laughed when they reached the bottom and were met with small dandelions poking out of the ground. Their joyful giggles could be heard forever around, and the mid-dark day opened to reveal a blooming sun peaking behind cotton clouds.

The two were jolly friends, Jesse being a boy of nine and with light-brown hair, bright green eyes, and a smile always apparent on his cute face, and Wilt being of an imaginary-friend sort. Jesse (after suffering from seclusion and resentment from so-called friends) had 'given birth' to Wilt when he was about five, and each of those years full of happy moments. Wilt knew he could be never happier than now.

-

Years passed, and Jesse grew to become a gothic sort, with the traditional black-wear and chains. Wilt had noticed less and less companionship from his 'creator', and was occasionally become more aware and concerned about it. He was made to help others, his only task, but at this time Wilt had begun to question and challenge the idea. Wouldn't there always be someone in need? Yes, so one could always have a purpose, but what is the point of succeeding in a job that one could truly never finish?

Jesse sauntered into his darkened room, his large boots and chains making unmistakably strange sounds that stirred Wilt from his thoughts. Jesse's eyes rolled over in Wilt's direction, stared at him for a moment as if reminiscing over past memories or just trying to figure out who Wilt was, and then shrugged and walked to his bed. Jumping onto it, Jesse laid on his back and stared at the ceiling. Wilt sighed and peered out the window. On the bright kind of day outside, they would have been playing or swimming in a pond nearby, but now with Jesse secluding himself…

"Idiot, get over here and do my homework," Jesse grumbled. Wilt noted how his friend's voice had changed from high squeaks to low growls. "Are you getting it done or not?" Jesse growled, and looked over at Wilt, frowning at him. Wilt sadly nodded and stood, undid Jesse's backpack zipper, and unloaded the books onto his own bed. Spreading it out, he noticed a report card peaking out of the front pocket. Wilt pulled it out and stared at the marked grades : D, F, F, B, C…

Wilt winced. He had helped Jesse with his homework, but had his helping made it worse for Jesse?

"…What are you doing with my report card?" Jesse stood and walked to Wilt, and looked threateningly at him. "You're hurting me, Wilt. Stop it." He grinned, knowing it hurt Wilt to say if he was hurting someone else. Wilt looked up to see Jesse spit on his lap.

Wilt nodded and frowned, looking away. "I am sorry, Jesse. Please, if there's anything I can do to help-"

"Just get out of my life. I'm sick of hearing 'let's help that cat in the tree, Jesse. Let's help that cat in the tree' and all of those stupid little remarks! …That's all you do, hurt people…hurt people over an over and over and over and-"

"Stop," Wilt whispered, suddenly frowning.

"-Over and over and over and over-"

Wilt growled. "I SAID STOP!" Immediately after he said this, Wilt cringed. He knew that Jesse would smack him around like he usually did. After a moment or two of nothing happening, Wilt looked up to see Jesse at the other end of his room, getting out a small wooden box. Jesse opened it and smirked as he did so.

"Know what this is, Wilt? It makes you feel better, all better…"

Wilt was horrified. Since when did Jesse do drugs? "I-…Don't use that."

Jesse did something of a snort. " 'don't use that'? Puh-leaze, that's what the councilor said too, before I beat her up, anyways." Jesse pulled out a small piece of paper from his back pocket and unloaded some of the substance in the box onto the paper. Wilt stood and walked over to Jesse and took the box from him.

"I said don't use it, so don't." Wilt looked at the box in his arms, and frowned at it. So this is what changed Jesse? Wilt heard approaching footsteps and looked up at the person standing by the door—It was Jesse's dad.

"What the Hell are you doing with drugs, Wilt?" Jesse's father, Mark, looked irritably at Wilt. Wilt was about to protest when Mark ripped off one of Jesse's chains and whipped it across Wilt's torso. Wilt almost cried out in pain, then looked down to see a deep gash on him. He looked up, terrified.

"I didn't-"

"And I'll bet it was you who gave him those magazines too, wasn't it?" Mark whipped the chain again, which hit Wilt's shoulder, causing him to drop the box on the tile floor. The box shattered, the contents spilling out all over the floor. Wilt stared helplessly down at it and then stopped down, picking it up and putting it back in the box. Mark screamed. "Why are you hurting Jesse, Wilt? He's Never hurt You, so stop hurting him! Get out! Now, just get out!"

Wilt gazed up, tearing welding in his eyes. Magazines? Drugs? What had Jesse been doing behind his back these years? With a nod, Wilt sulked to the door, opened it, and walked outside. Mark threw the chain at Wilt, who suddenly dashed on, wanting to leave his horrid past behind him…

This was the day when the Voice had developed deep inside Wilt, and it had continued to grow ever since.

-(end flash-back)-

Wilt woke suddenly, cold sweat on his face. He sat up, and a damp washcloth fell from his forehead. Wilt peered around the room, and found that Frankie, Bloo, Mac, and Eduardo in chairs sleeping beside the bed he was on. Suddenly, Wilt realized he was in the medical room on the downstairs level of Foster's.

Frankie stirred. She mumbled to herself and wiped her face with her hands. She sighed and opened her eyes, focusing on Wilt. "Alright? You had a pretty bad tumble-"

"What?" Wilt asked. _What tumble?_

"Oh," Frankie started, "I guess you were sleep-walking. Anyways, you fell down the stairs and then Cherie found you. Oh, yeah, speaking of which, she's at her apartment cleaning up.

"Why?"

Frankie shrugged. "I don't know…Oh, wait, I remember—she has to move out because she doesn't have enough money to pay the landlord…she's got until next Monday to clear out, or give the money, anyways."

Wilt nodded. So it was Cherie who helped him?

Frankie yawned and stretched. She pulled her right arm across her chest and bent the other in front of it, stretching, and then did the same with the other arm. Wilt sighed, wondering how he could repay Cherie for—he suddenly gave a surprised gasp.

"We should have a car-wash to raise money for Cherie so she can still live in her apartment!"

Frankie smiled. "Oh? You don't want her here?"

"I'll have to start calling her 'frankie 2' if she does so."

Frankie rolled her eyes and then looked at Wilt. "Sounds great, but how will we do that?"

"Remember how Duchess needed help on trying to lose weight, as well as a few other imaginaries? Well, it could be a great source of exercise, and a lot of fun, too!"

Frankie nodded, smiled, and then stood. "Sounds great, Wilt. I think we've got a deal."

-

FPM: YEAH! I WIN!

Mac: o.o what are you talking about?

FPM: huh? Oh, I was just arm-wrestling Bloo. My SUPERIOR STRENGTH has beaten BLOO!

Bloo: …But I win by DEFAULT! You CHEATED! So there, and gimme my pacifier back.

Mac: o.o you have a pacifier?

FPM: IT'S MINE!

Bloo: …RIP-OFF ARTIST! (-kicks FPM's shin and run away, laughing maniacally…-)


End file.
